


chills run down my spine as our fingers entwine and your sighs harmonize with mine

by TheseusInTheMaze



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, Introspection, Marking, Melancholy, Multiple Orgasms, Sex Pollen, Snow, thigh riding, toe sucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:06:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23595058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: The Doctor tries relaxing in a secluded cabin. It doesn't go as planned.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Missy
Comments: 8
Kudos: 55
Collections: Smut 4 Smut 2020





	chills run down my spine as our fingers entwine and your sighs harmonize with mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [listlessness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/listlessness/gifts).



> Title from _If My Heart Was A House_ by Owl City.
> 
> Big thanks to within_a_dream for betaing!

The Doctor sat on the porch of an old cabin, and she watched the snow fall. The cabin was on a flat plain, and she’d have been able to see for miles, if it hadn’t been for the snow.

It was quiet, the kind of muffled quiet that only came with deep, heavy snow. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She had one foot tucked under her, and her other foot was on the worn boards, gently rocking the swing. Her mug of hot chocolate steamed on the little table next to her, beside her open book. 

She hadn't had a chance to absorb… well, everything. She hadn't been able to drown out the screaming in her head with noise and activity - maybe some quiet contemplation would do her some good. She had done the owner of this cabin a favor a long time ago, when the planet was first being terraformed, and she had an indefinite invitation as long as the cabin stood. 

She hadn't ever been any _good_ at quiet contemplation, but there was a first time for everything, right? 

The snow seemed to be helping. The snow, the quiet, the fact that everything seemed to be hibernating. At most times, she would have felt smothered by all of the silence, but right now, it was calming her in ways that she hadn’t realized she’d needed. The cabin was stocked full of old paperbacks, and the Doctor was looking forward to going through them like a worm through an apple. 

The swing creaked, and even that seemed muffled. It was like the whole world had been wrapped in a thick wool blanket. 

“I’m surprised you haven’t gone mad,” said a voice next to her. “More mad than you already are, I should say. Usually you go mental with the quiet.” 

The Doctor jumped (although she would never admit it if asked later). She’d know that voice anywhere. The Doctor looked over at the familiar face, bathed in the golden light from the windows, and sighed. 

"I must say, the new look is interesting," said Missy, and she was looking the Doctor up and down, one eyebrow up. "I liked the last one more."

"Of course you did," the Doctor said, and she tried to summon up some sort of outrage. She remembered the Master - the version she'd met on the plane going down, who had pretended to be her human friend - laughing madly in the ruined citadel, and all she could feel was tired. 

"So how many regenerations along are you, at this point?" Missy leaned forward, and in the quiet, the Doctor could hear the quiet creak of her corset, the rustling of her clothes. After all the muffled quiet of the snow, Missy seemed to bring in a flurry of noise, a flurry of chaos.

Just like she always did. 

"Why are you here?" The Doctor drew her blanket tighter around herself, and she reached into her pocket, feeling her sonic press against her leg. 

"Oh, you know how it is. I was in the neighborhood, thought I'd stop by for a cup of sugar." Missy's grin got wide, with entirely too many teeth. 

The Doctor didn't say anything, just leaned heavily back in the swing and rubbed her eyes. "What do you _want_ , Missy?" She didn't have it in her to deal with Missy right now. Not after the latest mess. 

"I can't want to see my best enemy?" Missy's hand moved to the Doctor's knee, and she gave it a squeeze. "We can be gal pals now. Never had a gal pal before."

The Doctor took Missy's hand by the wrist, and she lifted it up, depositing it back on Missy's own leg. "I doubt you could have a gal pal if you tried," the Doctor said. "How do you know who I am?"

"I'd know you _anywhere_ ," Missy said, and her tone was serious now. "I've known you your whole life, you know."

"Right," said the Doctor. _I can't tell her_ , she thought, and that was yet another secret she had to keep. She looked into Missy's eyes, and was surprised at how _calm_ she found them. She hadn't realized just how bad the current Master (inasmuch as she could call anything "current" what with one thing and another) was, until she looked at his predecessor. 

"You don't believe me?" Missy made a face.

"Can we not do this?" The Doctor was faintly surprised at herself. 

"Not do what?" Missy looked nonplussed, but recovered herself fairly quickly. "You seem to be under the impression that I want something from you. I can't just be willing to drop in?"

"You never want to drop in," the Doctor said, and she sat up, letting the blanket fall around her shoulders, ignoring the shock of cold that hit her bare collarbone. "You _especially_ don't want to drop in when I've specifically gone to an out of the way planet to be left alone, which is so out of the way that the majority of the civilized universe doesn't know it exists yet." She bit her tongue as she looked at Missy, so many unsaid words ricocheting around the inside of her head. She wanted... what did she want?

Some part of her wanted to be left alone in the quiet and the snow, to absorb all of the things she knew, to try to figure out who she was, _what_ she was. Part of her wanted to fly at Missy and do... something, make Missy pay for the horrors she was going to bring about as her next self. To say nothing of the horrors she had brought about as her current self. 

"Since when am I part of the civilized universe?" Missy asked, her voice as sweet and syrupy as poisoned honey. 

The Doctor shook her head, trying to sort her thoughts out. "Missy," she said, "what are you doing here?"

" _My_ Doctor is off doing who knows what, ignoring me," said Missy. "Hasn't realized I can get in and out of his little vault yet." She tapped the side of her nose. "So when I caught your energy signature, I thought I'd drop in, read ahead a little bit."

 _So she hasn't betrayed me yet,_ thought the Doctor, and that was bittersweet. As if the Master and Missy and who knew who else hadn't already betrayed her more times than could be counted. "I can't tell you anything," the Doctor said.

"Yes, yes, I know," Missy said, and she flapped a hand dismissively. "Awfully concerned about conserving the time stream, or something similar." She rolled her eyes theatrically, and then she rummaged around in her pocket, and came back with… a flower. It was in remarkably good shape, considering it had been stuffed into a pocket. “Consider this a sign of my good faith.” 

The Doctor looked at the flower, then looked up at Missy, one eyebrow raised. It was purple, with big, blowsy petals that had dark red undersides. There was something unsettlingly organic about it, in a way that gave the Doctor the creeps. “Why are you giving me a flower?” She took it in spite of herself, and she leaned forward, taking a sniff. The pollen had a deep, dusty scent, which seemed to burrow down into her head. There was some kind of undertone, and she chased it, her brow furrowed, her eyes closed to block out distractions. 

"I had a feeling you'd find it interesting," said Missy, and she sounded some mix between proud and vaguely embarrassed. "I'm still a bit rusty with my present giving, I'm afraid."

The Doctor opened her eyes, looked over at Missy. "You used to give me lovely gifts, back in the Academy," she said, and she probably shouldn't have been talking about that. She didn't want to dwell on the past, and there was something especially painful about talking to Missy about the Academy. Missy had seemed - seems? - like she didn't want to concentrate on the past, wanted to turn over a new leaf. 

"It's been a while," Missy said, and she leaned back in the swing, crossing her legs at the ankles. "You didn't like the last gift I gave you."

"The last gift you gave me was an army of cybermen," the Doctor said, her voice as dry as old bones. She shivered out of the blue, goosebumps breaking out along her skin. It wasn't from the cold - if anything, it seemed to be getting warmer. 

"Well," said Missy, unrepentant, "what do you give the man who has everything?" Then she grinned like a shark. "Not the man presently, though, so I suppose I'm on the right track."

The Doctor kept holding the flower, not sure what to do with it. She could, in theory, get up and put the flower in a mug inside, but she didn't want to leave. She was half afraid that if she got up, Missy would be gone when she left. She was half afraid Missy would follow her in, and she'd never get the other woman to leave. 

Trust Missy to bring up all of the conflicting feelings. As if she ever did anything else.

"So you decided to just drop in?" The Doctor fiddled with the flower, tracing her fingers along the edges of the petals. It dislodged more pollen, which dusted across her hands, leaving streaks of orange so bright that they seemed to scream against the quiet colors of everything else. 

"Like I said," said Missy, and she was looking at the snow, her expression contemplative. "I wish we'd had snow, back home."

"We did," said the Doctor. "Just not where we were living." She was beginning to sweat, prickling heat breaking out along her hairline, her armpits getting damp. She unwrapped herself from her blanket, letting it puddle on the seat of the swing. She kept fiddling with the flower, lacking anything else to do with her hands. 

"Then it wouldn't be home," said Missy. "Where we were living _was_ home."

"Well, yes, but..." The Doctor cleared her throat. Her face was heating up, and there was sweat trickling down her back down, collecting under her breasts, soaking into her bra. "Still." 

"Not a very good argument, that," Missy said. "You're losing your touch, Doctor."

The Doctor sighed, putting the flower on the end table on top of her book and scrubbing her face with both hands. "I didn't come here to banter," she said, because she was tired, and her mind was getting faintly fuzzy. "I came here to clear my head."

"Bantering used to clear your head," Missy pointed out.

"No it didn't," said the Doctor. "Bantering just filled my head with banter. Filling something with something else isn't clearing it, it's just putting something else in instead." Was she making sense? The Doctor sat up further, pulled her sweater up and off. She shifted positions, so that her feet weren't tucked up under her anymore, and the cold air hitting them was _perfect_ , even through her socks. 

"That didn't make much sense," said Missy. Her profile was practically _gilded_ by the golden light, and the Doctor wanted to run her hands along the line of it, feel the line and curve of it under her fingers. She hadn't really had a chance to get her hands on Missy's body - when the two of them had been interacting, she'd still been relatively hands off. 

"Well, like I said, I didn't come here to make sense," said the Doctor.

"I don't recall you saying that," said Missy. Her voice was silky, and the Doctor could imagine wrapping herself in it, rubbing it along her skin. She was sweating even more now, and she tilted her head back, letting the cool air dance along her neck. 

There was an awkward silence as the Doctor just sat there, trying to cool down. Missy cleared her throat, then made an annoyed noise. 

"Something bothering you?" The Doctor didn't even bother trying to make her tone friendly.

"You seem more hostile, this time," Missy said. "You were nicer." She paused. "Or are you just mad at me because I'm interrupting your little meditative retreat?"

"You shouldn't be here," the Doctor said. She kicked her socks off, wriggling her bare toes in the cold air, and that was some momentary relief. She was still sweating, and she kept... noticing Missy, noticing the way her breasts would rise and fall with her breathing, the pulse at her throat, the elegant curve of her ear. The Doctor remembered the last Master's ear, the way he would gasp when it was sucked on.

Remembered when they had different names and ran through the halls of the Academy together, when they were both boys. She had all of these sweet memories of the person next to her, mixed in with all the foulness of all the years. 

"Why not?" Missy leaned back as well and the Doctor could almost make out the line of her corset under her jacket. How was Missy not melting, in all of those layers? The Doctor lifted her shirt up, fanning her face with it. More lovely cool air, right up against her overheated belly. Her nipples were getting hard as well, and her cunt was throbbing, clenching around nothing.

"You said you'd stay in the vault," said the Doctor. She was tempted to stand up, maybe even jump in the snow. What was - wait a minute. The Doctor rounded on Missy. "Did you dose me with something?" 

Missy looked genuinely confused. "What are you talking about?" The expression looked genuine enough that it was almost fake, and that was what told the Doctor it was real. Missy's practiced expressions always looked a little _too_ sincere. 

"It's..." The Doctor pulled the collar of her shirt down, to let some more air onto her chest. It was bracing, gathering against her sweat and cooling her down momentarily. "You did something to me. With that." She indicated the flower.

"I got it in a meadow on my way here," Missy said. "What's it doing to you?"

"Can't you _tell_?" The Doctor flopped back, and she was panting. She wanted to grind against something, wanted to climb into Missy's lap and kiss her, wanted to yank at Missy's ridiculous hair, pull Missy's jacket open and grab her breasts, kiss Missy's mouth with her own. She hadn't used this body for anything like that, apart from some late night grinding against her own hand. 

"Not really, no," said Missy, and then her hand was on the Doctor's knee again, and it was cool through the thin fabric of the Doctor's pajamas. "Those flowers aren't dangerous to Time Lords. If they were, it would have had an impact on me."

The Doctor groaned, sank down into the swing. Her feet slid along in front of her, and the cold wood was a nice little shock. The spot Missy was touching seemed to be that much warmer, and she wanted nothing so much as to touch Missy, and also to shove Missy away. 

"Are you allergic? That would be unfortunate." Missy's hand went from the Doctor's leg to the Doctor's face, and her palm was cool against the Doctor's sweaty cheek. The Doctor moaned, and she nuzzled into Missy's bare hand. 

"It isn't what it looks like," the Doctor murmured. She was leaning closer to Missy in spite of herself. She was close enough to count Missy's eyelashes. Her sense of smell seemed to be getting stronger - Missy's perfume was filling her head, pheromones deep and sharp as they filled the Doctor's head like smoke in a tiny room. 

"And what does it look like?" Missy wasn't moving back, was just staring at the Doctor, her eyes darting between the Doctor's mouth and the Doctor's eyes. 

The Doctor didn't answer. She pressed forward and kissed Missy's lipsticked mouth, and she moaned when Missy's tongue stole between her lips. She clutched at Missy's shoulders and she kissed her best enemy like it was the end of the world. She would know - she'd stopped it often enough.

"So not quite so standoffish, then," Missy said, and she was smiling now, all teeth and smudged lipstick. 

"I cannot believe you dosed me up and didn't even realize it," the Doctor grumbled. She was groping awkwardly at Missy's breasts, barely able to feel them through the layers of heavy fabric. 

She also couldn't believe she was doing this - jumping into bed (into swing?) with _Missy_. Was this going to be a “jumping into a horizontal surface” type of situation, or was she going to pull back and go on with her life, secure in the knowledge of what Missy’s mouth tasted like against her new mouth.

"It hardly counts as dosing you up if it isn't on purpose," said Missy, and her fingers were delightfully cool against the Doctor's overheated skin, skating across the Doctor's cheeks, to the back of her neck. It was raising up more goosebumps, and the Doctor was shivering with want, as she gripped Missy's hips and squeezed them. She was half draped on top of Missy, but Missy didn't seem to mind. 

"It's still dosing me up." The Doctor managed to pull herself back, scrubbing her face with both hands. She could still _smell_ Missy, and it was almost too much. The cold air was like a slap to the face, only good, although there had been a time when slaps to the face were good, but this wasn't the time or the place, this was -

The Doctor's internal panic was shut up by the sight of Missy getting down on the boards of the porch, parking herself between the Doctor's thighs. The Doctor stared up at her, wide eyed, and Missy smiled with a few too many teeth.

"This is your first time being a woman, isn't it?" Missy was sitting up on her knees, and that must have been doing horrible things to her skirt, but she didn't seem bothered. She put her hands on the Doctor's knees this time, and it was more heat radiating out. 

"First time, yeah," the Doctor said. _First time I remember, at any rate_ , she thought but didn't say. Missy didn't know any of that yet, did she? She looked down into Missy's eyes, and Gallifrey wasn't burning back at her. "What are you doing?"

"Have you given the body a proper road test?" Missy's hands were sliding down the Doctor's calves, and then she was cradling the Doctor's foot in her hand, the Doctor's heel nestled in her palm. 

"I've done enough," the Doctor said shortly. "What are you doing?"

"They look simply _darling_ ," Missy said, and she slid her fingers in between the Doctor's toes, her touch gentle. The Doctor was far gone enough that even that was getting her more worked up. She made a desperate noise, as the edge of one of Missy's red nails trailed over the sole of the sole of her foot. "I couldn't resist."

"You didn't strike me as the type for... for feet," the Doctor managed to pant, and she threw her head back, panting up at the roof of the porch. 

"I'm the type for many things," Missy said, and she fluttered her eyelashes up at the Doctor. "Wouldn't you say that I'm working hard to prove just how committed I am to being on the side of the good guys, by humbling myself like this?" 

The Doctor snorted, rolled her eyes. Far gone she might have been, but even she wasn't buying that.

Missy narrowed her eyes, clearly displeased. She lifted the Doctor's foot a little higher up, to get better access, and then her lips were closing around two of the Doctor's toes. She sucked on them, hard, sharp pulls, the same way she had sucked the Doctor's cock, back when she'd had one.

The Doctor gasped, her whole body going stock still. Missy's mouth was so hot, especially compared to the cold air, and her tongue was sliding in between the Doctor's toes, curling around them. Her teeth were coming in to play as well, in ways that the Doctor couldn't understand, because she was just _experiencing_ it, and the ticking, clicking analytical part of her brain had gone still. She moaned and writhed on the swing, and the snow seemed to swallow the sound, dissolving it like candyfloss in water.

"Seems I found a new way to shut you up," Missy said, and she looked entirely too smug for someone who had left her lipstick on someone else's toes. "I'll have to keep it in mind. Pity I can't employ it on the regular." 

The Doctor wanted to say something clever and biting, something that would make her look cool and like she wasn't just gibbering and writhing with arousal. Instead, she moaned again, and pressed her toes against Missy's lips.

Missy laughed, nipped the Doctor's big toe, then lower, at the Doctor's sole. "Needy little thing," she said, and the mocking note of her voice was enough to make the Doctor's toes curl and her cunt ache with its emptiness. 

The Doctor had never been this aware of her clit before, never wanted to grind against something, be filled, be fucked, be _used_ , to use someone like this. She whimpered, and she was shaking as Missy began to suck her toes again. She kept her eyes on Missy's face, and the way Missy's lips moved across her toes, leaving more lipstick, and the Doctor shoved a hand between her legs, finally beyond shame. She pressed her hips forward, grinding the heel of her hand against her clit through her layers, and the pleasure was like getting shot - sudden and sharp, enough to knock the breath out of her. 

The Doctor came, fully clothed, her toes curling against Missy's mouth. The orgasm hit her in wave after wave, leaving her shuddering as the sweet pleasure zipped along her nerves. It was a good orgasm - she was still twitching with the aftershocks, and she was acutely aware of how badly she wanted something inside of her. But she was _still_ horny, desperately; it was almost as if the orgasm had made it even worse. 

"I don't remember you being that uninhibited," said Missy. Her breath was ticklish across the tops of the Doctor's toes. "Has the new body been having that much of an impact?"

The Doctor groaned, squirmed, pressed her thighs together. She wanted to press something between her legs and grind against it, she wanted to climb down off the swing and kiss Missy again, she wanted to feel Missy's naked skin against her own. "You did this to me," the Doctor reminded Missy.

"Not on purpose," Missy said, and she sounded genuinely offended.

The Doctor pushed her sweaty hair off of her equally sweaty face, and she was still grinding into the side of her hand, the meat of her thumb pressing into her clit and against the seam of her trousers. "I don't think intent matters in this situation," she said thickly, then; "we should go inside."

"Are you inviting me in, then?" Missy stood up slowly, and she brushed some invisible dirt off of the front of her skirt. 

"You're a genocidal maniac, not a vampire," the Doctor said, and she stood up as well, her legs unsteady. "Anyway, I've met vampires. They were fish from outer space." She was so wet that her thighs were sticky with it, and it was hard to think through the desperate throbbing of her clit. 

"There are more than one type of vampire," said Missy, and she crossed her arms across her chest. "And that's _reforming_ genocidal maniac, thank you very much."

The Doctor didn't have a response to that. She elected to press close to Missy instead, until they were belly to belly and chest to chest. She kissed Missy again, pressing Missy into one of the posts supporting the roof of the porch, and she ran her hands up and down Missy's sides, then forward, unbuttoning Missy's jacket. 

Missy moaned into the kiss, and her hands were on the Doctor's hips, then the Doctor's back. She pulled the Doctor closer to her, and the Doctor let go of Missy to brace herself against the porch rail. She put her hand straight into a pile of snow, and the cold of it was a welcome shock to the system.

"I've never seen you so impacted by something before," said Missy. Her eyes were dark and hooded, her color high. "I must say, it suits you."

The Doctor snorted, and she fumbled with the high collar of Missy's blouse, pushing it down awkwardly to get to a few inches of skin. Then she was being pushed away, and Missy was pulling her brooch off, pocketing it. The Doctor unbuttoned Missy's blouse further, and she attached her mouth to Missy's pulse point, her tongue flickering out to taste the skin.

Missy tasted so _familiar_ , and different at the same time. She would know Missy's scent anywhere, no matter what hormones or chemicals were mixed in. Missy was Missy, her oldest friend, her dearest enemy. She didn't know why she was doing this - she _shouldn't_ have been doing this, not with Missy, especially not after what Missy did, but... oh, it was good to lose herself in the taste and scent of Missy's skin, in the feel of Missy's hearts against her lips, Missy's hot breath against her face. The contrast of the warm body and the frigid air was heavenly, and the Doctor wanted to roll in it like a seal in the ocean. She pulled Missy's blouse open, and... was faced with Missy's corset. 

"You look faintly dumbstruck," Missy said. She tugged at the hem of the Doctor's pajama top, and the Doctor took a step back, pulling her shirt up and off of herself. She was topless now, and she shuddered, her skin rippling out in waves of goosebumps, like the surface of a lake after someone threw a rock in. 

"This is a lot of very complicated underwear, the Doctor said, reaching around for the laces of Missy's corset. She - vaguely - knew how to unlace a corset. She'd helped lace Yaz into a corset, when they'd gone to see the Columbian Exposition, but lacing someone _into_ a corset was very different from getting them _out_ of one. 

In theory, at least, it was easier. 

"I'm going to get frostbite someplace delicate if you get me naked out here," Missy said, her voice dry, and she grabbed the Doctor by the wrist. "Invite me in."

"Did I already invite you in?" The Doctor's head was foggy with lust, and she stayed pressed into Missy, nuzzling into Missy's neck. Missy's hair was coming free from whatever strange set up she'd put it in, and it was tickling the Doctor's cheek. She couldn't bring herself to do anything about it, other than stay pressed into it, pressing kisses along Missy's neck.

"Haven't the foggiest," Missy said cheerfully, and she arched into it. "Ooo, Doctor, keep that up and you might give me a hickey."

"Since when do you care about hickeys?" The Doctor lessened her sucking, moving lower, to mouth at Missy's shoulder.

"How do you think Eyebrows is going to react, if he sees a hickey on me when I shouldn't have been out of the vault?" Missy's fingers trailed up and down the Doctor's back, and the Doctor gasped, her skin rippling with goosebumps. 

"I don't remember that happening," the Doctor murmured, and then she took a step back, shaking her head hard enough that it almost felt like something inside it was rattling. "Okay. Come in, before you get frostbite on something delicate."

"As a lady, all of me is delicate," Missy said, and she smiled like a shark, holding her hand out. 

The Doctor snorted, and she took Missy's hand.

"Alternately," Missy added, thoughtfully, "none of me is delicate." She smiled. "Or possibly, both!"

The Doctor didn't really have a response to that. Arousal was beginning to throb through her again, desperate and hungry.

* * *

The Doctor didn't really remember entering the cabin, not as a whole continuous memory. She remembered flashes of it, like someone taking pictures. The way the light hit her eyes when they walked inside, the way Missy's hair seemed to catch the highlights from the overhead lamp and shine, Missy pushing her into the door. Coming on Missy's thigh, her own arousal soaking through all of those layers to slick up Missy's bare skin. It wasn't enough of an orgasm to put a dent in the desperate hunger that was gnawing at the Doctor's nerves, and it left her wanting _more_. 

Then, somehow, the two of them were on the bed. Missy was up on her knees, and the Doctor was up behind her, holding Missy's breasts in her hands awkwardly, pawing at them through the corset. Missy still had on the corset, but nothing else, and her skin was pale and soft and against the Doctor in all the places they were touching. Pale and soft, a sharp contrast to the hardness of the corset. 

"I bet you miss your cock right now," Missy said, and she ground herself against the Doctor's front. 

The Doctor moaned into Missy's ear, and she rolled her hips forward, panting. Sweat was running down her torso, down her face. She was _aware_ of all the places they were touching, their skin sliding together. She pawed at the front of the corset, and she rutted against Missy's arse. Some part of her brain still remembered that as a _thing_ that she did, a thing that she needed to do. It wasn't giving her much relief, but it still felt... satisfying, in a way she couldn't entirely explain. 

"If you still had your cock," Missy said, "you could slide it right... here." She grabbed the Doctor's hand, pulling it down between her thighs. She ground her hips forward, and her vulva was hot and slick against the Doctor's palm. "I'd squeeze my thighs up like I am now, make it all tight and narrow. Your shaft would get all wet, the head of your cock nudging against my clit, foreskin drawn back..." She gave a little hip wiggle, and the Doctor whimpered. Missy was so wet, and it slid along her fingers, silky and slick, smeared along Missy's thighs. She could imagine the sensation of it along her cock, the slick drag of it, the way the head of her cock would nudge at the hard little nub of Missy's clit. 

The Doctor's thumb rubbed up against Missy's clit, and she ground down. She liked the little shockwave that went through Missy, liked the way Missy's voice went rough. "You feel so good..." 

Missy grabbed the Doctor's arm, and she kept grinding her hips into the Doctor's hand. Her red nails dragged pink marks across the Doctor's skin, and then she was coming, her hips bucking, her cunt pulsing against the Doctor's fingers. She sagged back against the Doctor, panting, and she was almost... sweet in that moment, sweet and vulnerable as she came down from her orgasm. 

Looking at Missy's profile from this angle, the Doctor could almost believe her dearest enemy was capable of change.

The Doctor's clit throbbed up at her, and the Doctor groaned, rubbing her own face. "You're wearing too many clothes," she told Missy, pawing awkwardly at the stiff fabric of the corset.

"Give a girl a moment," Missy grumbled, but she sat up fully, reaching behind herself to undo the laces of her corset. 

The Doctor nudged Missy's fingers away, and her own hands were shaking a little bit as she carefully untied knots, then tugged on the sides of the corset.

Missy sighed, and the Doctor stayed pressed against her, fingers moving around to fiddle with the metal fasteners. The Doctor pulled them free, and tossed the corset over the side of the bed, running her fingers along the red marks striping across Missy's sides and belly.

"Why do you do that to yourself?" The Doctor was kissing along Missy's shoulders now, her hands moving up to cradle Missy's bare breasts. She thumbed Missy's nipples, and Missy arched against her.

"All about the look, darling," Missy said, and she was a little bit breathless as the Doctor twisted her nipples. "I'd think you of all people would understand that."

The Doctor snorted into Missy's ear, and she was still grinding against Missy's arse, kneading Missy's breasts. "What's that supposed to mean?" 

"You dress like an idiot," Missy said, and then she was wriggling free of the Doctor, turning around to push the Doctor down onto the bed. The Doctor ended up flat on her back, staring up into Missy's face. 

"I have my own style," the Doctor protested. She gasped as Missy's fingers trailed across her belly, moving up towards her breasts. She was faintly amazed at how coherent she sounded, all things considered, and she squirmed, pressing her thighs together and grinding her hips up. 

"And it makes you look like an idiot." Missy took the Doctor's breasts into her hands, and she jiggled them. She straddled the Doctor's thigh, her own thigh pressing against the Doctor's wet cunt. She leaned forward, and her hair was ticklish against the Doctor's bare skin as she nuzzled into the space between the Doctor's breasts. 

"At least... mm..." The Doctor threw her head back, as Missy's knee ground into her. She spread her legs wider, her heels digging into the mattress, and she held on tight to Missy's hair.

"At least?" Missy prompted, and she pressed a kiss to one nipple. "Come now, don't leave me hanging!"

The Doctor whimpered, and then she froze. Missy was sucking on her nipple, her sharp little teeth catching on the areola. She kept her leg firmly in place for the Doctor to grind into, and the Doctor cried out as she came, another little firecracker of an orgasm igniting its way across her nerves, and she _still_ wasn't satisfied. 

"Well?" Missy repeated, and she looked down at the Doctor with narrowed eyes. 

"I lost my train of thought," the Doctor said. She could feel Missy's hearts beating desperately against her own, and she pulled Missy closer to her, as their breasts pressed together, their sweat sliding between the two of them. 

"Haven't done a proper train hijacking in a while," Missy said, her tone dreamy. She was still straddling the Doctor's thigh, and she moaned as the Doctor's leg shifted under her. She was slick and swollen, smearing a snail trail across the Doctor's skin. She sat up fully, and the Doctor watched, entranced, as Missy's breasts bounced with each grind of her hips. "You m-must be far gone," she added, as she leaned further forward, her face tightening up. 

"Mmm?" The Doctor's own hips were starting to roll. Missy's knee was pressing against the Doctor's labia, brushing against her clit. It was almost enough to be stimulating, but not quite. 

"I mentioned hijacking a train and you didn't even pull that stupid face you get when you think I'm doing something morally questionable," Missy said. 

She really had magnificent breasts: full, with dark nipples that stood out proudly. The Doctor took Missy's breasts in her hands and squeezed, tugging and pinching. She remembered the Master liking a bit of pain, remembered biting and pinching and scratching. Missy's whole face went open and ugly as she came, and the Doctor could feel her cunt pulsing, more slick drooling out of her to add to the mess on the Doctor's leg. 

Missy looked down at the Doctor, and her expression was... tender. A guarded sort of tenderness, but tender nevertheless. "Thank you," she said. 

"Mmm?" That was out of left field. After the lovely cold air outside, the cabin felt downright _stifling_ , but the bed was lovely and soft, and Missy’s weight leaning into her was grounding. 

"You're being less of an idiot than usual," Missy said, and she tucked a piece of the Doctor's hair behind one ear. The Doctor shuddered - each touch seemed to be sending more nibbles of desire along her whole body, more straining, desperate pulsing at her clit and her breasts, her hearts filling her head. 

"From you, that's practically a love letter," the Doctor murmured. She guided Missy's hand to her breast, and Missy gave it a squeeze.

"Well," said Missy, "you haven't really been accepting of any of my _other_ love letters." She twisted the Doctor's nipple between her fingers, then squeezed the whole breast, and the Doctor hissed, her thighs squeezing together. She could probably come, if she kept doing that, but no, Missy was climbing between her thighs, pushing them open. 

"I... mm..." The Doctor grew distracted, as Missy's mouth descended on her breasts, kissing down the inside, sucking hickeys and leaving deep bites. Her pointy, pointy fingers were digging into the Doctor's hips, and her breath was hot and humid against the Doctor's skin. When she pulled back, her lips were swollen, and her eyes were very dark. 

"Yes?" Missy's face was alarmingly close to the Doctor's. The Doctor could have counted her eyelashes. 

"I don't know," the Doctor admitted, and she gasped as Missy's finger dipped down between her legs, swirling along her clit. "I... _fuck_."

"Yes, you do," Missy agreed. "Although right now, I'd argue that you're _getting_ fucked more than you're fucking." She plunged two fingers into the Doctor, and the Doctor _howled_ , her back arching and her hips rolling up. Missy's fingers curled inside of her, pressing down on what was probably the Doctor's g-spot, and her thumb was rubbing little circles over the Doctor's clit. 

The Doctor probably should have said something clever, something bantering, something funny. She should have proven that she was more than just a body full of hormones, humping desperately into Missy's hand. 

She moaned and she thrashed, her cunt squeezing around Missy's fingers like a fist. The fingers of Missy's other hand were sliding into her mouth, and she sucked on them desperately, her tongue flickering between them. She sucked Missy's fingers the way she'd sucked Missy's cock, all those regenerations ago. She slid her tongue between Missy's fingers, as Missy fucked her deep and slow. 

"Good girl," Missy cooed. "Good girl, look at you taking it so well. You're so wet, you're squeezing me so tightly. If I still had a cock I'd put it in you and you would snap it right off." Her tone was so sweet and loving, but the things coming out of her mouth were just so _filthy_. "You're going to come again - I can feel you getting tighter, your hearts are going faster. Come for me, Doctor. Be a good girl and come for Mummy..."

The Doctor cried out as her orgasm washed over her, more pleasure spreading through her, overworked nerves sending more shockwaves through her. This one seemed stronger than the other ones, although it still wasn't quelling the desperate, gnawing hunger at the base of her gut. She whimpered, as Missy's fingers were pulled out of her mouth and out of her cunt, and then Missy was shuffling down the Doctor's body. 

"I had a feeling that would do something," Missy said, and her tone was smug. 

The Doctor snorted. "Clitoral stimulation is bound to do something, yes," the Doctor said, and she tried to keep her voice as dry as her cunt wasn't. 

Missy pinched the Doctor on the side, and even _that_ sent a little shockwave of pleasure to her clit. "Be good," she said. 

The Doctor groaned, scrubbing her face with both hands. She shivered, as Missy's fingers skated over the Doctor's slit. 

"Look at that sticky mess," Missy said. She was lying on her stomach now, her torso between the Doctor's legs. She was breathing on the Doctor's cunt, and the little gusts of air were ruffling the Doctor's pubic hair, leaving little shockwaves of pleasure up and down her back. "You're fucked out, aren't you?" 

Missy spread the Doctor's labia open, as if she was inspecting. The tip of her finger skated from the Doctor's slit, swirling over the Doctor's clit. 

"It's your fault," the Doctor panted. Another orgasm was starting to crest inside of her, and she whined. She didn't know how much more of this she could take. She was so tired, and then Missy's mouth was latching on to her clit and _sucking_.

Missy pulled off, and she licked along the line of the Doctor's slit. She pulled back, and rested her chin on the Doctor's belly, smirking like a cat. "I _did_ give you all those orgasms," Missy pointed out."I could stop, if you'd like."

"Please don't stop," the Doctor said, and she sounded a bit more desperate than she'd have liked. She wondered, vaguely, where in her past self's timeline Missy was coming from. She remembered her dearest enemy being more smug than usual about... something, but at the time she'd just put it down to Missy being Missy.

Maybe it was more than that.

"Are you sure?" Missy's clever fingers were sliding into the Doctor now, crooking upwards and pressing down on the sweet spot that made the Doctor's eyes roll back in her head. "You look awfully tired, Doctor."

The Doctor dug her heels into Missy's sides, and she rolled her hips up and forward, her head falling back. Threaded her fingers through Missy's hair, and she tried to tug Missy a little closer to her aching, desperate cunt. She could feel Missy's breath gusting across her, setting all those delicate nerves aflame, and it was making her whole body tingle. 

Missy snorted, another little puff of air, and then her mouth was back on the Doctor. The Doctor couldn't entirely keep track of what it was doing, honestly - all of her was swollen, delicate, sore in ways she'd never been sore before. The pollen was still racing through her, pounding along her nerves like horses on a racetrack. She realized, with some surprise, that she was crying out. She was crying out, rolling her hips up wantonly into Missy's mouth, as Missy coaxed another orgasm out of her aching, overstimulated cunt. 

The orgasm seemed to hit her in the back of the head, and it left her silent as she practically convulsed, her cunt clenching like a fist around Missy's fingers, her whole body slick with sweat. The desperate, angry heat that had been building inside of her seemed to be dissipating.

Finally.

Missy sat up, and she still had her fingers inside of the Doctor. She didn't seem that interested in removing them, but the Doctor was tired enough that she didn't really care. More than anything, she wanted to get a drink of water, and then maybe get some sleep. Her eyes fluttered closed, which wasn't always the safest idea around Missy, but she was willing to take the chance. 

Then Missy's hot, wet mouth was on the Doctor's toes again, and the Doctor jolted, her eyes flying open and her cunt clenching around Missy all over again.

Missy pulled the Doctor's toes out of her mouth, and she somehow managed to look commanding and in charge with the Doctor's foot pressed against her face. She nuzzled her face into the sole of the Doctor's foot, and she somehow made it look like a threat. Her hair was very soft against the delicate skin, and the Doctor curled her toes in it. Everything was taking on an almost dreamlike daze - she could hear her own hearts, hear the faint whoosh of Missy's. She could almost hear the sounds of her own thoughts as they moved through her head, little crackles of electricity. There were no sounds outside; the only other living things were nestled in their nests, their burrows, their dens, or else they were hibernating under the snow, to sleep out the long winter. 

The Doctor looked at Missy, and her hearts ached. She remembered when they were still students, hiding from their classes to kiss and fuck and plan together, in attics and storerooms and their dorm rooms. She was hit with a wash of tenderness, and she didn't realize that tears were tracking down her face until she felt the wetness against her ears. 

Missy frowned at her, eyes narrowing. "What's wrong?" She licked along the arch of the Doctor's foot, and the Doctor hissed, tugging on Missy's hair with her toes. 

"Nothing," the Doctor said, and she sniffed, wiped her face on the back of her hand. 

"Not something I did, I don't think," said Missy. "I at least take credit for all of my horrible deeds." She bit the Doctor's foot, and then she chuckled. The chuckle sent vibrations through the delicate bones of the Doctor's foot, and the Doctor shuddered, her fingers going to her own hair. She yanked it, and then Missy was sucking on her toes again, and everything went a little fuzzy around the edges.

"You get so tight when I do that," Missy said, and then her tongue was between the Doctor's toes, and she was sucking, wet and sloppy. There was spit dripping down the Doctor's sole, puddling on the back of her knee. “Makes me miss my cock, a little bit. If I had one, I’d slide it all the way in with your toes in my mouth, and then…” She pressed her fingers in deeper, and she curled her fingers, her knuckles bulging, and she sucked on the Doctor’s toes again.

The Doctor went flat on the bed, and she gave herself to the feeling. Missy’s thumb on her clit, Missy’s tongue between her toes, Missy’s fingers sliding in and out of her cunt. She was lazing towards an orgasm, like riding an inner tube down a river. She let herself be carried, let the memories flit through her mind. When they were students once, Missy had ridden her cock under a tree in a hidden courtyard, and the shadows had danced over Missy’s face. The two of them in an attic, the Doctor’s foreskin sliding over Missy’s cock, coming and coming and coming. Fucking Missy into a mattress… somewhere, all those regenerations ago, all those faces ago, all those bodies ago.

She looked into the face of the woman who was going to betray her, betray Bill, the woman who would someday wipe out their entire species, and she let her orgasm wash over her, in long, pulsing waves. She sank into the bed, her eyes fluttering closed, and it seemed like the pollen was finally letting her go.

She didn’t even realize she was falling asleep until her foot was put down on the bed, and she vaguely realized that the bed was dipping down next to her. Missy’s hand was cool against her overheated skin, and it was a blessed, blessed relief.

* * *

The Doctor woke up to an empty, cold bed. The light filtering in through the window had a slightly blue tinge to it, and when she squinted, she could see the fern-like patterns of frost on the glass. 

The cabin smelled a little bit like sex, with faint hints of Missy’s perfume. She didn’t hear Missy anywhere, and when she stood up to investigate, she couldn’t see the Time Lady anywhere either. Naked but for the blanket wrapped around her shoulders, the Doctor opened the door and welcomed the cool blast of air. She found that the flower was missing from the little side table, but there was a sheet of paper. 

There was a lipstick print on the paper, and a little note - _until later_.

The Doctor looked at it for a long time, and then she sighed, and turned around, walking back inside. She closed the cabin door behind her securely.

But she kept the piece of paper.


End file.
